


Clipped Wings Don't Lend Themselves To Soaring

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: I don't know what I'm doing, King!Grantaire, M/M, Rape, Slave!Enjolras
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5164400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is a slave whose master forces him to seduce Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clipped Wings Don't Lend Themselves To Soaring

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was for an old promt on the kinkmeme. Hope you like it? It's the first thing I've ever written outside of school.

Enjolras was furious. He was also terrified, but if he concentrated on being furious, that faded, and anger was far preferable to fear. His master (and god, how Enjolras hated that that term) had overheard the king remarking on his good looks and had now decided to whore him out. And to add insult to the injury to human dignity and basic rights- which Enjolras had been systematically denied since birth- Enjolras himself had to do convincing. HE had to convince a corrupt, drunk, irresponsible, person with the power to kill him at a whim to sleep with him- if not, Sir Bamatabois had made it abundantly clear the not one king, but multiple guards would be his first “intimate encounters”. And then, as Bamatabois had taken great relish in informing him, he would be sold. To a brothel. So Enjolras really had little choice (and how he hated, detested that) but to do- well, something he had hoped would never happened, but had secretly feared ever since he grew old enough to understand that not all looks directed at him were good. 

So the next morning, Enjolras was to serve his masters as usual, albeit in a more visible manner, so that he might once again catch the eye of the most powerful person in the whole castle. This continued the whole day, at first without incident, since there he had managed to avoid the king's gaze somehow. But that evening he found himself serving the drinks to the nobility and as he poured wine in his master's cup once again with concealed disgust, Bamatabois remarked to King Grantaire “isn't he a beauty! And so wilful to, some days I don't know whether he is truly serving me or plotting a takeover.”

“Indeed,” the wry, slightly contemptuous voice of the king said. “However, I try to keep my speeches about servants- even indentured ones- to times where I have imbibed at least a bottle of something undiluted.”

Enjolras knew now was his time to try- or at least, be seen trying- to seduce the drunkard. So with a deep breath he said “Well then, perhaps I could fetch a bottle for your Majesty” and immediately hated himself for caving in to the sickening demands of his master. 

“Only if you make sure to come back with it,” Grantaire said, his eyes lingering on Enjolras for far longer than necessary. And so Enjolras came to serve them more and more wine over the course of the evening, and by the end of the night Enjolras and the king had spoken quite a bit, and Grantaire had seemed to enjoy it. Enjolras had done the same, but inside he was hating himself and the task he had been given. Every time he had to fake a laugh he hated his circumstances more and more, and the few times it hadn't been faked had simply shown him how trapped he was. 

Then, after the long dinner (and excessive drinking, Enjolras though, despairing at the moral character of the man supposed to be running a whole country) the nobles went to retire to bed (or go off to carouse some more in private), Enjolras knew he had to continue with this-charade if he wished to not be sold as a prostitute. So he waited a few moments in the hall before following the king out. Once in the corridor to the king's private rooms, Grantaire abruptly started speaking to Enjolras despite not facing him, the smirk he was surely wearing audible in is tone.

“So, Apollo, decided to keep me company through the night? Descended to the levels of mere mortals in order to warm my bed? How charming! Or is there another reason you're following me as silently as Orpheus' bride? Dare I look upon you, or would my gaze make disappear as she Orpheus' did? But no, the comparison between a lowly wife and such a godly figure such as yourself is not befitting. But I would be as heart-broken as Orpheus without you, or as Hadrian without his beloved beauteous Antinous, the eternal vision of perfection, so I shall not turn around and possibly cause your dissolution until I am sure you shall stay if I do. Come now, speak!”

'How am I to, with your ramblings,' Enjolras wanted to say, but he decided to not risk his future with such a flippant remark. After all, drunks were notoriously capricious, and although now he seem genial and cheerful enough, Enjolras did not want to provoke him in any way. So instead he said “And what if I am planning on warming your bed, as you say? Were the gods themselves not the most likely to indulge in such things as you have implied?”

“A servant who knows his classics, you really are a treasure! It is so easy to forget that Apollo not only looked the part of the glorious god, but was a poet and much-learned deity himself! But here is the door to my chambers, and I welcome you inside if you are indeed so inclined,” Grantaire said, opening the massive door into a most opulent room with a huge bed in the centre Enjolras' eyes were unwillingly drawn to. If he succeeded in his distasteful task, it was very likely he would end up right there, and that knowledge made him question if he really could go through with this.

“You know, gods have the option to change their minds, if they so wish. If you don't want to be here, I won't hold it against you if you leave. And that is true of anything we might decide to do, you can always change your mind if you decide you don't want to be participating. After all, a god should always be pacified as much as possible, so we mortals must not fear your wrath.” Grantaire said, strangely serious and disarmingly earnestly. Enjolras, however, knew he had no such choice. 

“I will leave, or stop you if I don't want something. I may be a servant, but I wish to keep at least the ownership over my own body,” Well the last part was true, at least, even if the first was a blatant lie. He wished for that freedom, but had to surrender it now to keep as much as possible for as long as he could. 

“Good, for I prefer my partners willing, so they are less likely to turn into trees, or turn me into one. But, truly, if for any any reason you tell me do not want something which I do, I won't do it, and if anyone tries to convince to act you otherwise, I will protect you, because I did not sit through long meetings about servant rights to disregard them them because of my own appetites.” 

“Well, I try not to use my godly powers too much, but I assure you, I am indeed willing, or I would be if you ever did anything!” A part of Enjolras admired Grantaire for even thinking to attempt to reassure Enjolras and make him aware that he was not obliged to do this, but a larger part of him felt sick because he could stop this now and he just didn't know if he dared. But then Bamatabois's words came back to him and he steeled himself for the lesser of the two evils, because he thought this might not be the worst possible chain of events. After all, if Grantaire was so thorough in assuring that his partner was consenting, perhaps he would be considerate in bed as. And although Enjolras had no wish to do whatever Grantaire would ask for, he supposed that a brothel would be far, far worse. After all, Grantaire would let him go, and perhaps punish Bamatabois, but he would surely not concern himself with the fate of an indentured servant. And then Enjolras would be sold and used and probably killed and he really wanted to avoid that. 

So when Grantaire took hold of Enjolras' shoulders to pull him into a intimate and frankly dirty kiss, He didn't resist and did his best to seem like a willing participant, although he was unsure about what to do, as he had simply never been interested in doing this with anyone before. So he did his best to just let Grantaire dominate the kiss (and he knew that would become a pattern and was trying his best not to panic about everything else Grantaire would be controlling). After quite a bit of kissing which left Enjolras feeling slightly woozy, Grantaire broke away.

“So, would the great Apollo want to move this to the bed?”

“Of course- I mean, yes, whatever you want” Enjolras said, slightly desperate . Was he going to have to continue affirming his consent? On principle, that was great, and admirable- but he wished, right now, that Grantaire would just get on with it and not force him to take such a active part in his humiliation. 

“Hmm, but what do you want, my golden god? My fingers, my tongue, my cock?”

“I want-” What on earth was he supposed to say? He had to make sure that Grantaire enjoyed this encounter as much as possible, but he wanted to avoid as much contact as he could. “To suck you off.” That should be sufficient, and he could do it, probably. He'd never tried, obviously, but the whole thing had never seemed too complicated. 

“Oh, God, yes! But after those lips asking if they might pleasure me so sinfully, I may not last long when they perform the deed.” 

Enjolras sunk to his knees and started undoing Grantaire's pants. He concentrated on making sure his hands stayed steady, that his face betrayed no undue emotion. He could not give himself away now and risk everything. But as Grantaire's cock sprang free, more than half-hard already, he momentarily froze. What should he do? How? Was he really going to take it in his mouth? He had no idea how to do go about this at all, and suddenly the whole thing seemed more intimidating than he had expected. As he pondered his next move, a strained voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Ah, Apollo, must you reduce me to begging? For I shall, if you do not commence with whatever you have planned very soon. Oh, but gods do have a cruel streak!”

Enjolras knew he had to act now, lest Grantaire be unsatisfied with his performance and let it slip to Bamatabois that Enjolras had not pleased his well enough. So he steeled himself as he reached for Grantaire's cock and slipped his hand around it before leaning even closer and flicking his tongue out to touch the head, prompting a groan from Grantaire. So he must be doing something right, he thought as he opened his mouth and took in the tip of Grantaire's cock into his mouth, still uncertain if he was doing this right until he heard Grantaire's words from above him.

“Oh, yes Apollo, that's it- perfection. From this angle, you look as divine, like pure temptation. How do you seem so chaste usually, when you can do this?”

Enjolras felt sick. He didn't want to be any sort of temptation- that's what had gotten him into this whole mess to start with. And he would far prefer to stay chaste. But he had no choice, he realised as he took Grantaire further into his mouth and sucked. He had heard insinuations that sucking made the whole experience more pleasurable for the receiving partner- and if it was so, perhaps this whole thing would end sooner if he just made it as good. So as Grantaire's hands made their way into his hair, he also tried to move his tongue along the organ in his mouth while moving his hand around the parts he couldn't fit in. He continued to do that for a time which seemed endless to him, trying not to think about what he was doing while still concentrating on making Grantaire moan as loudly as he could.

Then Grantaire ground out “Apollo, I'm close. May I- Could I – oh god that's so good- come on your face? Please?” And so Enjolras pulled away from Grantaire's cock, keeping his hand on it and moving it as Grantaire's hands clutched his hair with increasing desperation. Finally, Grantaire moaned loudly and gobs of something wet landed on Enjolras' face as he reached completion. Enjolras kept his eyes closed and tried not to dwell on what exactly was covering his face, before he felt gentle hands wiping away the worst of the filth and reaching to tilt up his chin. And so Enjolras opened his eyes, aware that he had yet to finish his act, that his facade must not slip until he was alone. 

“So, was that- I mean, are you- was that satisfactory?” he found himself asking, inwardly cringing at such a pathetic question, knowing it would make him seem even more inexperienced and ignorant. 

“Satisfactory! Why, it was a gateway to Paradise, a path straight to heaven on a god's lips! A paltry word such as satisfactory could never do it justice! Now, my dearest Apollo, may I return the favour in some way, may this unworthy devotee worship at you temple?” Grantaire said, still slightly breathless. 

But the last question, however well-meaning on Grantaire's part, had Enjolras scrambling to make up some believable excuse to not have this whole charade be even more demeaning for him, some way for him not to have to give up his last shreds of tattered dignity. 

“I'd rather not, I have things, things that I need to do, I'm sorry I just have to go” Enjolras said, trying desperately to stop this whole situation from becoming any worse. Grantaire's eyebrows rose and he looked slightly unhappy, so Enjolras cast about for something to reassure him with, but couldn't think of anything to say. Before he could say anything, though, Grantaire pulled him up into a kiss which left him breathless and confused. Was this normal? He had assumed that once he had performed the act, Grantaire would no longer bother with such things.

“Well, farewell my golden Apollo, I would never presume to try to compel a god to stay with his mere mortal lover. But if you ever wish to come back, you can be assured a warm welcome in this consort's bed.” 

And after one last kiss- how many did he have to endure?- Enjolras left.


End file.
